Catamount Ridge by Aubree Lane Page A

institutionalize her. The poor girl came off the ridge ranting about being kidnapped by monster cats and being held in a cage. It was worse than any alien abduction story I’ve ever heard. Little Lizzy was never right in the head after that. A few months later, they had her committed. Her parents sold out and moved to a retirement community closer to the facility. I haven’t seen them in ages, but whatever happened on Catamount Ridge destroyed their family. The same thing might happen to you, Jessie. Stay away from the Fosters. It isn’t healthy.”
    The Fosters weren’t staying away from her. Jessie didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t going to be the response Sally wanted, but she asked anyway. “What’s the name of Lizzy’s facility?”
    “Oh, Jess. Leave the poor girl alone. She’s been through enough.”
    “Then give me the number for Zack and Mable. Maybe they’ll have some insight.”
    It didn’t really matter if Sally coughed up the number. The couple would be easy enough to track down. Mental hospitals and retirement communities were scarce up here in the foothills. If successful, her strategy would ease her cousin into revealing what she knew about the old woman who raised Ice and Derek.
    •   •   •
    AFTER LISTENING TO another half an hour of Sally’s unnecessary warnings, her cousin relented and gave Jessie the information she wanted.
    Grandma Foster was recovering from a stroke at the nursing home across the street from the hospital. Sally didn’t know if the woman was capable of verbal communication, or what her prognosis was, but she warned that the old lady was close to a hundred years old and that she needed to be treated with kid gloves.
    Sally wasn’t the only hurdle she had to leap before consulting with the old bat. Jessie spent a good part of the day arguing and bribing her way through the entire staff of administrators and even fellow convalescents until she came face-to-face with the notorious Grandma Foster.
    The first picture Jessie had of the old lady was of her dozing in a wheelchair outside on the terrace. Easy summer breezes wafted through her long wiry gray hair as the leaves of a Japanese maple rustled in the background. She was a slight woman and her thin, terry cloth robe hung limply over a pair of faded pink pajamas. The lady’s crippled feet rested on the wheelchair’s cold steel footrest. The day was warm, but it seemed odd that she didn’t have slippers on.
    Marigold’s face bore signs of all the trouble her ninety plus years had brought her, and her wrinkled hands shook uncontrollably in her lap.
    The head administrator shot Jessie one last warning before stepping back to stand guard over their visit. She ignored the scowl and gently nudged the old woman’s bony shoulder.
    “Mrs. Foster,” she whispered softly. When the old woman’s paper thin lids fluttered open, she introduced herself. “I’m Jessie Marcus. I’m here to speak with you about your grandsons.”
    Marigold grabbed her hand and gripped it with surprising force. Familiar steel-blue eyes glowered up and Marigold’s ancient nails dug into Jessie’s flesh.
    It all became clear. Jessie had been walking around with blinders on. The staff’s concern hadn’t been for their patient’s safety, but for her own.
    Visibly shaken, Jessie tore her hand away. Blood oozed where the old woman’s claw had raked across her skin. Jessie turned away to regain her composure. She grabbed a metal chair from a nearby table, and very deliberately scraped it across the concrete patio. The old woman flinched at the irritating sound, and Jessie smiled.
    Before she got down to business, Jess blew a few strands of hair out of her face. With fierce determination, she met the old woman glare for glare. “What can you tell me about your grandsons?”
    The old woman narrowed her eyes.
    Jessie didn’t expect much. If the woman was anything like her grandsons, she would play it close to the vest. Taking a cue from Ice,